


My Favourite Weapon Is the Look in Your Eyes

by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Ginny, Banter, Cunnilingus, Duelling, F/F, Fingerfucking, Mild Blood, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 03:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosed_quill/pseuds/lq_traintracks
Summary: Pansy exhorts Ginny to help her get into the Auror training program. Ginny really doesn't want to do it. And then she really, really does.





	My Favourite Weapon Is the Look in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Weasley Jumpers Mini-Fest, 2017, for sdk's prompt: #61 -- _The line between love and hate is so very thin._
> 
> Title from the Marilyn Manson song, "Stigmata" (though with the 'u' added since this is HP and all).

"I want you to help me get into the Auror program." Pansy Parkinson's voice stops Ginny in her tracks. 

She'd thought she was alone in the Ministry Atrium, for one. It's nearly ten o'clock now, and Ginny would have bet more than a few Galleons she was the last one in the building.

But Pansy's voice has disrupted the quiet of the vaulted room, and though Ginny heard her, she's having trouble processing the request.

Ginny turns to find Pansy standing there staunchly, though even from this distance Ginny can tell her hands are trembling a little. 

"Excuse me?"

Pansy swallows, lifting her chin. "I said—"

"I heard you." Ginny takes three steps closer. "I just don't understand why you would ever think that I would want to help you."

"I simply—"

"Or," Ginny interrupts, "why grovelling wouldn't be your immediate conversation style of choice, given that you have never, not once, been anything but a complete arsehole to everyone I've ever cared about."

"Well, I do work with Granger, and she and I have been on relatively—"

Ginny turns with a disgusted huff and starts back toward the Floos.

"Ginny, please!" 

Ginny's steps falter, and she stops against her better judgement.

"I'd pay you. I don't expect for you to do it for free."

An old anger surges up Ginny's chest, and she turns once more. "You wanted to give Harry to fucking _Voldemort!_ "

Pansy flinches, whether at the name or the reminder, Ginny can't be certain. She clears her throat. "Well, in my defence, I did think he was going to kill us _all_ , you know." And for as scared as she looks, Pansy also seems more than a little determined. 

Ginny has to wonder how long she's been gearing up to ask, not to mention how long she's been waiting for Ginny tonight in order to catch her on her way out of the building. 

Pansy looks down at the floor and then back up. "Please," she grits out before she takes a breath and softens her hard edges, trying again. "Please, Ginny. I'm asking for your help. And I'm asking you to… forgive me."

The last is obviously difficult for her to make herself say, and she blushes furiously in its wake.

Ginny makes to turn away again, but her hand inches to her wand, and in the next moment, she turns, slashing out and sending Pansy soaring backward and onto the ground with only a moderately powerful Stun. Ginny strides across the marble floor, her footsteps echoing in the emptiness, Pansy's gasped breaths the only other sound.

She stands over Pansy, who gawps up at her in incomprehension.

"I forgive you," Ginny says. Then she stashes her wand, turns, and walks away.

 

"You can't wear that."

It's their first lesson, and Pansy has shown up in standard Unspeakable robes like she's going to be doing bloody Arithmancy here in the training room.

Pansy looks down at herself and then back up, and Ginny rolls her eyes, going to her bag and pulling out a pair of tight, stretchy leggings and a well-fitted top. She throws them at Pansy, and then when she just stands there, Ginny lifts her eyebrows. "Changing room's just there."

"Right."

Ginny's doing some warm up charms when Pansy returns, wearing the new garments. Ginny's _Avis_ fizzles out mid-charm and results in a flurry of birdless feathers through which she finds herself staring.

It's not that she's never stopped to consider that Pansy Parkinson is attractive. She's just never been witness to her actual curves hugged tight by sparring clothes. Ginny's gaze tracks down her body, noting how the top bares her arms and cups her breasts — like a pair of hands gently lifting them from behind. Pansy's legs are long enough they could wrap around Ginny's waist and—

"Are you just going to stare, or are you planning to actually teach me something?" 

When Ginny's roving gaze returns to Pansy's face, it's to find a becoming blush of anger on her cheeks. Pansy's hand grips, turns, and then regrips her wand.

Ginny smiles, flicks her own wand, and has Pansy on the ground from another spell faster than Pansy can inhale to say yet another snarky thing.

"Never fidget with your wand," Ginny says as Pansy struggles back up again. "There. Lesson number one."

"Bitch," Pansy grits out beneath her breath.

"Excuse me?"

Pansy huffs. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Oh but you should mean it. You should _use_ it. Come on, Parkinson. Wand at the ready. Let's go."

And this time, when Ginny sends a Stunner her way, Pansy counters it. Barely, but she does.

Ginny fights a smile. 

 

They train every evening of the week. Ginny teaches Pansy how to cast faster… and then faster still, how to anticipate an opponent's curse, how to use her body when she casts to amplify a spell or decrease the odds of a counterattack striking where it hurts.

To Ginny's surprise, Pansy's not without natural talent. She learns quickly and is eager to do so.

She's also still an arsehole of the highest magnitude, and Ginny has had to rein in her own magic at Pansy's under-her-breath taunts and muttered insults on more than one occasion.

Friday evening, Ginny's in a mood herself. She'd gotten a dressing down from Robards when she'd destroyed yet another broom in a chase to catch their perp. But caught him she had, which really should have led to something more like, "Thank you, Auror Weasley, for your bloody ninety-six per cent solve-rate, brooms be damned." But, you know, whatever.

There's no Parkinson yet, so Ginny tosses her bag into the corner of the room and does some quick stretches, staying in her Auror uniform to save time. Pansy stalks in at ten past.

"You're late," Ginny grits out.

"I work here too, you know. I do important things you people never actually see or hear about or care about apparently, but—"

"'You people'?"

"Bloody hell, Ginevra: Aurors. What did you think I meant? Gingers?"

"Don't call me that."

"Which?"

"Just shut your bloody mouth and get your wand out."

At this, Pansy tries to pull Ginny's own trick on her, and whirls with her wand, slashing out a jinx without warning. But Ginny dodges and sends a Stinger under her arm, nicking Pansy's thigh.

"Fuck you." Pansy gasps with the pain.

" _Incarcerous_ ," Ginny casts, but Pansy meets it with her own _Reducto_ , turning the flying ropes to dust in mid-air.

Ginny should be pleased Pansy has learned her favourite spell so well, but instead she's just incensed. She fires off five quick hexes in a row, backing Pansy across the room and putting her on the defensive.

To her credit, Pansy deflects them all, and before Ginny can force to her to the ground with the barrage, Pansy gets off a _Diffindo_ which rips into Ginny's Auror tunic, nearly breaking her skin as well.

Pansy's gaze goes to the tear in Ginny's clothes, the flash of her ribs and stomach.

Ginny goes on the attack once more, but Pansy successfully dodges her next hex and fires off three of her own.

They go at it until they're both sweating. Pansy's hair flicks about her face as she spins for a defensive spell, the damp ends sticking to her cheek. Ginny charges, casting spell after spell, most of which Pansy deflects, but Ginny strikes true with two Stingers in a row which have Pansy crying out and collapsing to her knees.

Ginny makes the mistake of lowering her wand an inch, and that's when Pansy strikes with yet another _Diffindo_. It slices through Ginny's trouser leg _and_ her skin this time, drawing blood. She gasps. Pansy's gaze flares triumphant, and Ginny doesn't know what takes hold of her, but she tosses her wand aside and stalks quickly up to her. Pansy rises, the look of victory changing to trepidation.

Ginny takes Pansy's shoulders and slams her back to the wall. Pansy gasps. Her eyes flash. Panting, Ginny stares at her full mouth, the way Pansy's tongue darts out to lick a drop of sweat from her lip.

Seeing it, Ginny's cunt clenches, and she realises she's wet. She's been wet all week. She surges forward and kisses Pansy hard. 

Pansy's lips part readily, and Ginny would spend a little time being shocked except that Pansy moans into her mouth, her tongue seeking Ginny's, and Ginny would much rather just kiss her back.

An eager hand slides into the gash in Ginny's tunic and onto her skin. Pansy's nails rake over her side, and Ginny hisses into her mouth. She breaks the kiss to spin Pansy around, getting her facing the wall.

Pansy plants her palms, and Ginny's hands find the waistband of her leggings and yank down, jostling her and exposing her full arse. Ginny aches just looking at it.

Pansy shuffles her feet wider, and Ginny snakes an arm around her, grabbing her breast through the fabric of the top and stepping close. She breathes hot against Pansy's neck as she slips her hand between Pansy's legs from behind and squeezes the furred folds of her cunt. Pansy gasps a sigh, arching into it, pressing her breast into Ginny's hand.

Ginny runs two fingers past the outer lips and into the wet crevice of her.

"Do it," Pansy groans, cheek pressed to the wall.

Ginny finds the opening of her cunt, teases at her with a come-here gesture for a moment, and once Pansy whines, she pushes both fingers slowly inside.

Pansy presses her arse back into Ginny's body. Ginny's fingers go deeper. She starts fucking them in and out. Pansy's already moaning like she's about to come, and she takes Ginny's other hand and shoves it inside her shirt and bra roughly. Ginny cups her breast and then plucks at the nipple. And suddenly Pansy Parkinson is a mess in her arms, crying out and trembling and bucking. She's a Confringo ripped loose from a wand. 

Ginny bangs into her from behind, throwing her hips into it while she finger-fucks her deep and quick. "Come on," she grits out.

The warm slick drips down Ginny's hand, and Pansy's pussy clamps hard, flutters as she shakes and cries, clamps down again. Pansy cants back, riding Ginny's fingers while she comes. She leans forward for the angle, and gravity drops her breast heavy into Ginny's palm.

They slow into one another. Thrusting becomes rocking. Rocking becomes breath. Ginny withdraws her fingers, and Pansy mewls.

Pansy rights her clothes. "Get your wand." She bends to retrieve her own.

For a moment, Ginny thinks she means to continue duelling as though that's a thing that's possible at this point. 

Pansy turns, and Ginny sees the flames of heat on her pretty cheeks, the sweat dripping down her neck. "Get your bloody wand."

Ginny blinks, holds out her hand, and catches it as it flies to her.

"Your things," Pansy adds.

For a moment, Ginny wants to rebel. This is _her_ room, her battleground. _She_ says what goes. But then Pansy simply stares her down, the after-effects of her orgasm painted all over her, from the unsteadiness of her breath, to the dilation of her pupils. 

Whatever Pansy's thinking, Ginny wants. She Summons her bag. 

Then Pansy steps in close to her, wrapping a hand around Ginny's neck. She kisses her deep, licking into her mouth. They Apparate.

 

Ginny wakes to the gauzy rose light coming through Pansy Parkinson's sheers. She's woken to this three times this week now. She stretches, and her body remembers the night before, each cell speaking volumes, though not exactly protesting.

The sheet that had half-covered her nakedness shifts, and from her vantage point fastening her bra at the foot of the bed, Pansy ducks her head, looks up from under thick black lashes, and leers as the auburn curls at the apex of Ginny's thighs are exposed.

"Stop teasing me," Pansy purrs, pulling on a shirt.

Ginny gives her a lazy smile. She rubs her thighs together, recalling quite vividly how Pansy had spread them apart in the midnight hours, her snide mouth descending between.

"Will you be there today?" Pansy's holstering her wand, taking a deep breath.

Today is the day after all. "If they'll let me."

"I hope so. I'll feel braver if you're there." Her smile is a little tremulous, and Ginny marvels at seeing this vulnerability in her.

"I'll try to be," she promises.

"I have to get going," Pansy sighs. "You know where the kettle is? The Floo powder?"

"Yeah." Ginny stretches again and revels in how Pansy's gaze goes right to the peaks of her breasts.

"Wish me luck, Ginevra."

Ginny really sees her in that moment, the actual nervousness. She crawls out of the bed and pads over to where Pansy stands in the doorway, fully dressed and ready to go. Ginny places her palms against Pansy's face. She leans in and kisses her. "You don't need it."

 

Ginny sits in the gallery overlooking the training room, her legs spread and one booted foot propped on the empty seat in front of her. She watches Pansy walk to the centre of the room and shake Harry's hand. Ginny wishes it was anybody other than Harry, but still. Pansy is prepared for this. She is. Ginny knows she is because she knows how Harry duels and that had been in her mind when she trained Pansy in the first place.

They begin. There's no slow work up; it's a quick back and forth, but by now, Pansy is good at that sort of pace. Harry doesn't hold back much, but he only gets through Pansy's defence a few times, and then she's on the attack again. Ginny bites the inside of her cheek and tries not to hold her breath.

Malfoy wanders in and leans in the doorway. Ginny spares him a glance. "Hey."

"Hey," he returns. 

"Taking a break from your potion?" Ginny's eyes don't leave the duel going on below.

"It's under stasis," Malfoy says, sounding preoccupied.

Ginny knows the feeling.

Pansy successfully defends against one of Harry's ironclad series of attacks. Ginny's seen him take down many an opponent just like this. But Pansy, gasping and on one knee though she is, recovers. Ginny makes a fist in her lap. "Come on," she says under her breath.

She hears Malfoy sigh from the doorway.

Ginny smirks. "My guy is going to beat your guy's arse."

"And just who are you speaking of when you say that?"

Ginny huffs an ironic laugh, and then they both wince when Harry takes a hard Stinger.

"I can't watch this," Malfoy decides.

"Aww, you can run him a hot bath later, Draco… kiss it better and all that."

He scoffs, "Who even are you?", and then turns and leaves, unable to watch his boyfriend and best mate duel one another.

Ginny turns back to the action to watch Harry execute a nearly flawless advance that has Pansy floundering, striking out sloppily with her wand, and only barely managing to defend her position.

"Come on," Ginny says again.

Then she sees the fierce light come into Pansy's eyes, the determination that she will not succumb, no matter what, and when Harry sends several objects around the room flying at her all at once, Pansy lunges. " _Reducto!_ "

It's so strong that it not only obliterates everything flying her way, but the shockwave of it knocks Harry back off his feet. He lands on his arse and slides into the wall. Ginny even feels it reverberate through the floor of the gallery.

It seems to even stun Pansy, which gives Harry the edge he needs to cast a quick _Expelliarmus_ , divesting her of her wand. 

The duel ends there. Harry stands, walking over to Pansy and extending his hand. They shake, and Ginny sees that Harry is smiling. She sees the word _congratulations_ pass his lips. He glances up at the gallery on his way out of the training room and gives Ginny a thumbs up.

Ginny smiles, her insides feeling fuse-lit, burning pleasantly with the knowledge that Pansy has done it. She'll be admitted to the six month probationary training to become an Auror.

Harry gets Ginny's attention again. He mimes something, a little shrug, palms up, and then points at where Draco had been leaning in the doorway before. Ginny mimes back, her two fingers running through the air to let Harry know his boyfriend fled rather than stay and watch. Harry rolls his eyes but then grins at her and nods, Summoning a towel to wipe his face.

And then there's only Pansy in the room. She looks up into the gallery, finding Ginny's gaze. Ginny quite likes the pride that shines through her sweat. It's not that same arrogant, awful prickliness she wore like armour before. It's nothing like that, and Ginny warms seeing it.

Pansy smiles and gives Ginny a nod. Ginny returns it, feeling happy in a way she'd not have expected. She'd not have expected it at all.

Pansy's look turns mischievous, her gaze sparkling with heat. She gives a tilt to her head, an invitation for Ginny to come down. Ginny feels that look deep inside of her, the rush of arousal unmistakeable. 

Ginny's not in love. She's not. It's way too fast for that, and she's not a teenager anymore. She needs more now.

But she's close and she knows it. She's already surfing that buoyancy that is at once perilous and sublime, that's just almost flying. The broom has leapt into her hand, and like hell if she's going to put it down. She doesn't care if she crashes.

Ginny turns and exits the gallery, taking the stairs down at a run.


End file.
